


Half-Dead and Done

by Inkeye



Category: The Hateful Eight (2015)
Genre: Bloodplay, Character Death Fix, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Frottage, Gratuitous Swearing, Hate Sex, M/M, Racism, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkeye/pseuds/Inkeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, somehow, they're fucking alive. And then they're just fucking.<br/>A little fic about two people that despise each other, with a combination of Dear-Lord-we're-alive and a long stretch of forced abstinence. Aaaand an additional warning for sensitive language. This is told in the tone of the movie and from two very angry, very prejudiced characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Dead and Done

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS  
> (And poor Warren is still intact. We are pretending the man got shot in the upper leg. Yeah. That's totally where it happened. Shhhhh.)

 

After all is said and done, the two don't remember much about the day their cavalry came riding in.

They were bleeding out just like the other poor dead bastards did before them. Their rescuers came upon the pair passed out in pools of red, Domergue swinging 'twixt them like a damn puppet. Turns out she lied through her teeth about those reinforcements. These folks came searching when not only was their new sheriff a no-show, but so was Minnie for a scheduled supply run. They tended to the wounded and buried the dead, all save for Domergue, who was to be brought into town for the bounty. Her frozen corpse was languishing atop the carriage outside.

Mannix woke several days into his recovery, propped up in a chair and covered with blankets. One man, clearly in charge, came over to explain the situation.

"-And we found one black man, still breathing too. Set him up in the barn just in case. He with the rest of the bandits?"

"Naw, that nigger is no bandit. Bastard actually saved my life. Least we could do is giv'm some warmth."

Fair's fair.

The man shrugged and gave his posse the order. Warren was brought in and set up not far from himself, and the two ignored each other.

Days past, and they were still in no condition to be moved. The small group had to return to town for drugs and food. They left a lone man to watch them, and promised to be back by dark.

The villager left behind spent most of his time outside, leaving Mannix pretty damned bored.

"Oi."

Warren didn't move. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell peaceably.

He didn't fool Mannix.

"Oi, nigger!"

Warren's eyes opened lazily, and he stared at Mannix.

"What...the _fuck_ do you want?"

"I dunno. Cards or somethin'?"

"You wanna play cards."

"Or somethin'. I dunno, I'm bored."

Warren's head thumped against the headrest, and he closed his eyes again. "It is not my damn job to keep you occupied. Just how simple are you, boy, that you can't amuse yourself?"

"A sight less simple 'n you-"

Mannix went on a little rant, enjoying every minute of it. Warren, on the other hand, was not liking this interruption to his nap.

"Will-you-shut-UP."

"Why don't you make me, you-you-eh-what're you doin'?"

"Whatsit look like son, I'm _makin'_ you." Having pushed the blanket aside, Warren struggled to his feet. Damn, but that hurt. No, just sitting and breathing hurt. This was _torture_. Every damn nerve aflame. He took one cautious step, then another.

"'Ey, you, get back down in that chair, y'hear?" Mannix eyed his approach with consternation.

"Nah, you're bored, remember?" A few more steps, it wasn't that far- "How's a nice beating sound?"

He got there, inch by inch, and reached out to steady himself. Mannix flailed as Warren's hand came down near his head. Piss poor idea, really. His flailing got Warren unbalanced and falling fast.

"GAH! Get-offa-me!" Mannix struggled to shove him away, cracking their heads together for his trouble.

"Goddamnit, stop moving!"

"Like hell! Gedoff!" Through the agony, he could feel a patch of wetness seeping through across his bandaged chest. "Aw hell, I'm bleeding again! You fucking ass! Why aren't you moving?"

"Because-you moron-it's pretty damn hard to-catch your breath-when you've got-a collection of holes-in your body!"

"Hurry the fuck up!" But Mannix had stopped moving, too. The constant pain sapped the strength right out of his bones.

Warren tentatively shifted his legs. That didn't seem so bad. He braced against the back, pushing himself a bit at a time, pausing whenever he felt a strong twinge.

This brought his face pretty damn close to Mannix's. And Warren realized he must really have gone too long without a woman, because that face was-

That face was turning purple pretty damn fast.

"Hey! Hey what the _fuck_ is that!" Mannix almost shrieked. Well, that was a fast response to his...fast response.

Warren wondered what the hell that man outside was doing if he wasn't coming running at that.

And-this was a surprise.

"Oh, is there something you'd like to say?"

"Yeah!" Mannix snapped, "Yeah, fucker, there's something I'd like-"

Warren chose that exact moment to grind his knee into Mannix's crotch, just shy of rough.

"I get that there's something you might like, boy."

Mannix's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and then they were kissing.

Their teeth clashed together as hands fisted into hair. Warren thrust his tongue into that warm, wet mouth. He tried to yank the other's head into a more favourable position, only for Mannix to bite his tongue. He licked his lips with the bloody appendage and went in again.

"'Ey, less chomping." He mumbled.

"You'd like that, won'cha, gotta taste for humble white boys after all those poor souls you-" The man was just spewing vitriol-but come to think of it, this wasn't a half bad way to shut him up. Teeth or no.

Mannix made a face at the coppery taste, but there was no way in hell he was stopping now. First time's he felt this warm in weeks. And if the thought of what his pa might think gave him pause-well, _he_ was in charge. _He_ was using this nigger, not the other way around.

He gave another nip, and split open an old cut on Warren's lips. The older man swore and pressed down on Mannix's side, fingers tightening on the bloody area.

That man had to have some distance on the inn, to not hear all the screaming and hollering.

The wetness on his fingers gave Warren an idea. He propped a hip on the arm of the chair, unfastening his trousers and distracting Mannix with his mouth. He permitted Mannix's savage bites for a minute and could practically hear the man purr. Give him an inch and white man thinks he's won.

"Mph-wha's-" Mannix managed to get out before Warren had his trousers pulled down too, just enough to free his cock.

Warren wrapped his blood-slick hand 'round the both of them, and gave them a good stroke. Mannix's eyes rolled up as he let out an honest-to-God _moan_.

"Like that? C'mon, give me another. Let loose that pretty mouth of yours."

"Sh-shaddup." But damnit all if he didn't do it again as Warren set up a rhythm. Up, down, up, down, patted him for more slick, up, down...

"Ca-can't you find somethin' better to use...than my very own lifeblood?"

"Sure I could." Warren grinned, sharp and bright. And he kept going.

His hands were tacky, now. The skin caught in an upward slide.

Mannix groaned and grabbed him by the neck, forcing his head back down. The kiss was less teeth and more tongue, but no less coarse. The grip 'round their cocks tightened, and he rocked up into it.

"Look at that." Warren rubbed at the head of Mannix's cock, showing him the glistening on his thumb and forefinger. "How's that for something better? Getting a little eager-"

Mannix snarled and lunged for his mouth.

Warren's hand stuttered. The boy knew how to use his tongue. He may not know how to make it sweet, and sweetness was surely nice, but this, this was all Warren needed.

He kept himself leaned into the arm enough for balance, but centered enough to lay on more pressure. His hand was trapped between their bodies, and it was a chore to keep it moving. Warren finally gave up and simply rutted against Mannix.

Their bodies strained to keep moving, keep making that friction. Beads of sweat dripped down off of Warren's nose, splashing onto Mannix's face, his chest, his _fucking_ bandages that were wetter by the second with something or a fucking 'nother. He grunted and clutched at Warren's hips, urging him, _faster_.

"Get your hands off-" Warren forced out between clenched teeth.

Manix bared his teeth. He let go of Warren's hips and ran his hands up, to where he knew full well a bullet wound was.

Fair's fair. And the nigger thought _he_ was loud.

Everything was good n' wet, his bandages, Warren's bandages, that patch between them-oh, that patch was good. One nice spot of tingling nerves and the kind of warmth that went to his toes. Not at all like the cruel heat of bullet wounds or fever. Both of which he was becoming far too well acquainted with.

The boy's mind was wondering. Warren pinched his side, gave his cock a good tweak. The hard length twitched at his touch, and Mannix began to move again.

Their hips were rolling in unison, meeting the other smoothly even as they lay new wounds around necks and inside mouths. The warmth began to peak, Mannix reaching it first, shuddering to his climax. His loss of focus allowed Warren to sink into the crux of his body uncontested. There, Warren sighed, and gave one last, slow roll of his hips, his come splashing onto the already soiled bandages.

They gave themselves a moment, reveling in the lack of pain as the afterglow ran golden-like through their sore bodies. Just a moment.

Then all the misery of the world came crashing back in the form of re-opened bullet holes, making themselves known loud n' proud.

"Gggg-od! Get! Off! Me!" Mannix screeched.

Warren flexed, and sighed, and heaved himself up. He hadn't had worse, but in the future this sort of thing would-probably still be godawful.

He wondered if Mannix would notice with drying come all over himself. Even where his own wouldn't reach. Or if that would be left to be noticed by the next person to tend to him. That was a nice thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel obliged to add that the presented ideologies (or language) presented are not my own ideologies (or language). You'll have to forgive me for being a wee bit twitchy about this.


End file.
